Wilf the Mighty Worrier--Battles a Pirate

by Georgia Pritchett

  As it opened, a very cross face with a big mustache emerged.

  “What do you think you’re doing, you blithering nincompoop?” said the cross face.

  “Well, I was dying and you interrupted me,” explained Wilf.

  “Well, don’t die all over my submarine. I’ve just had it washed.” said the cross face.

  “Who are you?” asked Wilf.

  “Captain Bailey at your service. All present and correct.” He saluted and poked himself in the eye. “Ouch. Dash it. Never have gotten the hang of that.”

  Wilf saluted back.

  “Well, come in if you’re coming in. Don’t want you-know-who seeing,” said Captain Bailey.

  Wilf climbed into the submarine and Captain Bailey closed the hatch and the submarine dived under the water in a very creaky drippy groany way.

  “What are you doing down here?” said Wilf.

  “Been down here for seventy-five years. Not seen much action for quite some time, but I’m ready for ’em. Crafty bunch they are.”

  “Who?” asked Wilf.

  “It’s probably best if we speak in code. In case they’re listening,” said Captain Bailey, and he tapped his nose twice.

  “Was that the code?” asked Wilf. “The nose tapping?”

  “No, no, that was just—you know—a nod and a wink.”

  “The code is nodding and winking?” asked Wilf.

  “Dash it all to hell, boy, no! Pay attention. Right. So instead of saying ‘war,’ we’ll say ‘tiddlywinks.’ Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Wilf.

  “And instead of saying ‘Germans,’ we’ll say ‘chinchillas.’”

  “Righty ho,” said Wilf.

  “So the English are playing tiddlywinks with the chinchillas and—hang on a minute,” said Captain Bailey. “You’re not one of them, are you? You’re not . . .” his eyes widened in horror, “a chinchilla?”

  “No, sir,” said Wilf.

  “Ah, but that’s what you would say. If you were a chinchilla in disguise. Wouldn’t put it past them, hairy little blighters.”

  Wilf was getting a little bit confused.

  “I promise I’m not a chinchilla,” said Wilf. “But even if I was a chinchilla, the English aren’t playing tiddlywinks with the chinchillas anymore.”

  “Balderdash!” said Captain Bailey. And then, “Excuse my French.”

  “No, no, I promise. They haven’t played tiddlywinks for years,” said Wilf.

  “What?” said Captain Bailey in a high-pitched shriek. “Did the chinchillas win? Did they take Poland and then take over the world?”

  “No,” said Wilf. “It’s all fine. It’s over. We’re all friends. In fact, my cousin is a German, I mean a chinchilla.”

  Captain Bailey sat down and had a very long think.

  “Well, crikey o’ blimey, I don’t know what to say,” said Captain Bailey. “And I don’t know what to do,” he added sadly. “This game of tiddlywinks has been my life. I don’t know how to do anything else.”

  Captain Bailey began to cry and then began to blow his nose in a loud trumpety way. “You know, one Christmas, me and the chinchillas, we put our tiddlywinks aside and we had a jolly good game of, well, in actual fact, it was tiddlywinks.”

  “Please don’t be sad,” said Wilf.

  Then an idea began to form in Wilf’s mind.

  “Because there’s something much worse than a chinchilla to deal with now,” said Wilf.

  Captain Bailey looked up, mid-trumpet.

  “Oh yes,” said Wilf. “And this time, it’s bigger than tiddlywinks.”

  “What do you mean, boy? Come on, spit it out!” said Captain Bailey excitedly.

  “Well, Alan . . .” started Wilf.

  “In code, in code!”

  “Sorry. There’s this man called . . .”

  “Delilah?” offered Captain Bailey.

  “If you like. And he wants to . . . crochet a tea cozy,” said Wilf, giving a meaningful wink.

  Captain Bailey gasped. “No!” he said. “He wouldn’t!”

  “I’m afraid he would, sir,” said Wilf.

  “That’s dreadful!” said Captain Bailey.

  “I know!”

  “He must be stopped!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Just so I know,” said Captain Bailey, “what are we actually talking about?”

  “He wants to destroy the world,” explained Wilf.

  “Oh he does, does he?” bellowed Captain Bailey furiously. “Well, he hasn’t counted on Captain Bailey and . . . and . . . what’s your name, boy?”

  “Wilf,” said Wilf.

  “Wilf, is it?” said Captain Bailey. “Then I shall call you . . .” Captain Bailey scratched his chin, trying to think of a good name.

  “How about Wilf?” suggested Wilf.

  “Could I? It would be so much easier,” said Captain Bailey with relief.

  “Come on, Captain Bailey!” urged Wilf. “After that pirate ship!”

  “Full speed ahead!” said Captain Bailey.

  In front of them, the pirate ship sliced through the waves, surging through across the water.

  The submarine, it has to be said, pootled along rather slowly.

  “You know that thing you said about full speed?” asked Wilf tentatively. “Could we do it?”

  “This is it, lad, hold on to your hat!” said Captain Bailey excitedly.

  went the pirate ship.

  Pootle pootle went the submarine.

  went the pirate ship.

  Pootley pootle pootle went the submarine.

  went the pirate ship.

  Pootley pootley poot poot poot went the submarine.

  “We need to hurry, otherwise Delilah will have crocheted that tea cozy before we even get there,” said Wilf anxiously. “And also, my sister and my best friend are on there and we have to get them back!” Wilf’s voice went all wobbly and he had to go and look at a notice about escape procedures as though he was very interested in it.

  “Don’t worry. The pirate ship seems to be going in circles,” said Captain Bailey. “Periscope up!” he barked.

  And then he turned another squeaky handle.

  Wilf peeped through the periscope. Captain Bailey was right! The pirate ship was going in circles. And they were catching up with it!

  Wilf could see Alan and Dave Everyone fighting over the wheel of the pirate ship. Nearby, Eyepatch Eddie was teaching Mr. and Mrs. Heartie how to fold napkins into swans.

  “Pirate ship at eleven o’clock!” said Wilf excitedly.

  “Oh, I think we’re going to get there much more quickly than that,” said Captain Bailey.

  CLAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNGGGG went the submarine as it hit the pirate ship.

  “See what I mean?” said Captain Bailey.

  Wilf and Captain Bailey climbed aboard the pirate ship, as nimbly and as silently as a couple of very large nimble silent squirrels. The first thing Wilf saw was Dot, chewing her spade happily.

  “I’m so pleased to see you!” said Wilf to Dot, kissing her and leaving a little clean patch on her cheek.

  “And I’m so happy to see you too, Stuart!” said Wilf, kissing Stuart.

  Wilf stopped to look at Stuart.

  “You are looking very handsome today,” said Wilf. “Have you polished your segments? Have you combed your antennae? What’s going on?”

  Stuart blushed. Then he giggled. Then he gave a big smile. And then a tiny woodworm crawled out of a hole on the ship, crawled over to Stuart, and shyly held one of Stuart’s hands.

  “Have you had a vacation romance?” asked Wilf.

  Stuart nodded.

  “With this beautiful woodworm?”

  Stuart and Wendy (the woodworm) giggled and blushed.

  “Well, I am so happy for you both,” said Wilf.

  “SEIZE HIM!” yelled Alan, spotting Wilf.

  “Cheese him?” asked Nigel.

  “Seize,” repeated Alan.

  “Squeeze?” asked Nigel. />
  “Seize,” said Alan loudly.

  “Sneeze?” said Nigel.

  “Is anybody around here going to seize that boy?” asked Alan.

  “We’re just a bit busy with our napkin swans at the moment,” said Mr. and Mrs. Heartie.

  “And I’m learning how to ballroom dance,” said Dave Everyone.

  “Pirates?” asked Alan.

  “Go on, now go, walk out the door, just turn around now . . .” sang the pirates, because they were doing karaoke.

  “While we’re waiting for someone to seize me,” said Wilf, “I’d like to introduce you to my new friend, Captain Bailey. Captain Bailey, this is Alan.”

  “Delilah. Delighted to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Captain Bailey.

  Alan looked baffled.

  “Captain Bailey saved my life,” explained Wilf.

  “Typical!” said Alan. “But it’s probably a good thing you’re back, because I have a new plan.”

  “Is it to put all our differences aside and have a jolly good game of tiddlywinks?” asked Captain Bailey. “By which I mean actual tiddlywinks, not tiddlywinks,” he explained.

  “No. It is an evil plan to get the biggest cannon in the world and then fire it at the world and sink it. Because I am the baddest, the baddest, the biddly boddly baddest man in the whole wide worlderoony,” said Alan proudly.

  “But dash it all to hell, Delilah, where are you going to get the biggest cannon in the world?” asked Captain Bailey.

  “I’m not sure. What I really need is a huge long metal cylinder-shaped thingy. Something like . . .” Alan looked around for inspiration.

  Then his eyes fell on the submarine.

  “Your submarine!” he said.

  “No!” cried Captain Bailey.

  “Yes!” cried Alan.

  “You wouldn’t!” cried Captain Bailey.

  “I would!” cried Alan.

  “You couldn’t!” cried Captain Bailey.

  “I could!” cried Alan.

  “You shouldn’t!” cried Captain Bailey.

  “I should!” cried Alan.

  “You must!” cried Captain Bailey.

  “I mustn’t!” cried Alan.

  “You will!” cried Captain Bailey.

  “No, I won’t!” cried Alan. “Oh, hang on. Wait a minute. Back up. We’ve swapped roles.”

  “We haven’t!” cried Captain Bailey.

  “Yes, we have!” cried Alan. “You’re saying I must and I’m saying I mustn’t.”

  “My dear chap, you’re quite right. I’m so sorry,” said Captain Bailey. “Shall we start again?”

  “I haven’t really got time,” said Alan. “I’ve got rather a lot going on, what with sawing the ends of your submarine off.”

  “Yes. Fair point,” said Captain Bailey.

  Well, I don’t know how often you’ve tried to saw the ends off a submarine, but it is jolly hard work. Unless, of course, you happen to have a robot on hand.

  “LRX2FL309version8.4markIII!” called Alan.

  “LRX2FL309version8.4markIII!” called Alan again.

  “Mark III!” screamed Alan.

  The robot galumphed onto deck. “What?” he said.

  “I need you to do something for me,” said Alan.

  “I can’t. I don’t feel well,” said Mark III.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Alan, concerned.

  “I’m tired,” said Mark III.

  “You’ve been asleep for three weeks!” exclaimed Alan, a little exasperated.

  “And I feel sick,” added Mark III.

  Alan put a hand against Mark III’s shiny head.

  “You do feel hot,” admitted Alan.

  “See? I’m not well!” whined Mark III.

  “Hang on a minute. I can smell oil on your breath. Have you been drinking oil?” said Alan.

  “No. Maybe. Wh-what if I have?” stammered Mark III.

  “I told you not to drink too much oil! It’s not good for you!” said Alan.

  “But all my friends do it and anyway I didn’t drink much and anyway you can’t tell me what to do!” said Mark III.

  “Yes, I can,” said Alan, “because I invented you and I built you and I programmed you to do my every bidding and so now, if you don’t mind, I would like you to saw the ends off that—”

  “I’m going to be sick!” wailed Mark III before Alan could finish his sentence and he clattered off down the steps back to his hammock.

  Alan sighed.

  “I just want someone to saw the end off a submarine!” he said dejectedly. “Is that so much to ask?”

  “Is it a cruise ship game?” asked Mrs. Heartie.

  “No!” snapped Alan.

  “Are there teams?” asked Mr. Heartie.

  “No!” snapped Alan.

  “Is there a prize?” asked Mrs. Heartie.

  “No!” snapped Alan. “I mean yes. Yes, there is a prize. The prize is . . . the prize is . . . the prize is . . . a picnic basket,” he said, pleased with himself.

  “Ooh, a picnic basket!” said Mr. and Mrs. Heartie and they both rushed off to each saw an end off the submarine.

  And a mere eighteen hours later, Mrs. Heartie had won and had claimed the “picnic basket,” which was actually the rest of Wilf’s picnic.

  “So what happens now?” asked Wilf anxiously.

  “Simple. We find a volcano, melt a whole heap of metal, and build the world’s biggest cannonball. It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Alan.

  “Not that obvious, no,” said Wilf.

  “Right. Question,” said Alan. “Where is there a volcano?”

  “Ooh, is it quiz night?” asked Mr. Heartie.

  “Is there a prize?” asked Mrs. Heartie.

  “I’m not so good at geography questions—can you do more eighties pop?” said Mr. Heartie.

  “I just need to know where a volcano is,” said Alan impatiently.

  “I’ve got a better one,” said Dave Everyone. “Who sang ‘West End Girls’?”

  “Ooh, ooh, I know,” said Mr. Heartie. “Was it Pet Shop Boys?”

  “Correct! And for a bonus point,” continued Dave Everyone, “what was the name of—”

  “Can we just FOCUS!” shouted Alan. “I need to know where there is a volcano! Now!”

  Nobody answered.

  “Come on! You must know!” Alan insisted.

  “All right, all right. There’s a cash prize,” sighed Alan, relenting.

  “Hawaii!” said Mrs. Heartie.

  “Ooh, very good,” said Mr. Heartie.

  “Do I win? How much do I win?” asked Mrs. Heartie excitedly.

  Alan fished around in his pockets.

  “Two pounds and seventy-three pence, a button, a squashed toffee, and a bit of lint.”

  “Whoopeee!” said Mrs. Heartie.

  “It’s an expensive business being a pirate,” complained Alan. “Right, which way is Hawaii?”

  “I know,” squawked Nigel. “Because I’ve flown all over the world. I’m like your own personal GPS.”

  “Perfect!” said Alan.

  “Then take us to Hawaii, please!”

  “No problem,” said Nigel. “I know a really good shortcut.”

  Much, much later . . .

  “We’ve passed that bit of seaweed eighteen times!” yelled Alan, hopping from foot to foot with frustration.

  “Please continue north for one hundred meters, then turn left at the next whale,” said Nigel.

  “I can’t turn left. There’s a big bit of land in the way,” fumed Alan.

  “Turn right, eight nautical miles ago,” continued Nigel.

  “You stupid parrot!”

  “Do a U-turn at your earliest convenience,” said Nigel.

  “That’s it. I’m not listening to you anymore!” yelled Alan.

  “You have reached your destination,” said Nigel. “Your route guidance is now finished,” he added. And then he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  Wilf looked aro
und him. Hawaii was not how he had imagined it would be. There were giant icebergs, frozen seas, and huge snowflakes falling from the sky. Where were the blue seas and the palm trees and the coconuts?

  “This isn’t Hawaii!” said Alan.

  Oh! That might explain it, thought Wilf.

  “Where are we?” asked Alan.

  Everybody tried to look busy because they weren’t sure of the answer.

  “You, boy!” said Alan.

  “Me?” asked Wilf.

  “Yes, you. Climb up to the crow’s nest and see if you can spot Hawaii.”

  “Why is there a crow’s nest on a boat?” asked Wilf, baffled.

  “It’s not a real crow’s nest, you nincompoop!” yelled Alan. “It’s just called a crow’s nest. It’s actually a lookout point used by pirates at the very, very tippity top of the tallest mast.”

  Wilf’s ears went all burny. And he did three loud swallows in a row and then a strange sort of gulpy half swallow. Then his eyes went all fuzzy. One knee went the wrong way and one knee went the right way so he did a strange sort of curtsy to Alan.

  “Come on. Hurry up,” said Alan.

  Wilf didn’t move. You see, Wilf is scared of heights. Really scared. In fact, he’d been hoping he wouldn’t grow any taller because he was worried he might feel a bit fainty if he got above four feet.

  What was he going to do? He wanted to run and he wanted to hide and he wanted to lie on the floor and be as low down as possible.

  But he didn’t have time for any of that. So instead he had a great big old worry and then a great big think and he thought so hard his brain needed a vacation. And then he had an idea.

  He got out his “How to Stop Worrying” leaflet.

  said “It can be very calming to have a cup of chamomile tea.” Maybe Wilf should try that? Except chamomile is a flower and flowers make Wilf go sneezy and wheezy and that would not be calming. Also Wilf does NOT like tea. It makes him feel all bleurgh. And tea is very hot and Wilf is scared of scalding himself and burning his tongue. The last time Wilf tried tea it had gone down the wrong way and made Wilf choke and that had been very coughy and worrying. Worst of all, he didn’t have his own cup with him so he would have to use a cup that someone else might have used first and left their slobber all over. Urgh urgh urgh! Wilf decided he would rather climb up to the crow’s nest than have a cup of yucky old slobbered-on burny hot sneezy tea.